The Nameless Horror, Or Something Like That
by Min Daae
Summary: In which Cal and Niko encounter eldritch horrors from beyond. Sort of. Cal is exasperated.


You know you're in trouble when Niko starts looking grim about an assignment. And he wasn't just looking grim about this one. It was more downright 'shit, why did I take this job?' grim. That didn't bode well.

"Ever heard of H.P. Lovecraft?" He murmured, wandering over and swatting my hand away from my hair. "Don't touch your head while you're eating. You'll get dandruff on the table."

"If I've heard of him I certainly don't remember anything about it. What was he?"

"A writer. His shtick was that humanity lived in an isolated little pod in the midst of a world that would drive them mad if they knew even part of the truth."

"Sounds joyful. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Our client." He grimaced. "Either he wasn't lying, or we have a serious nutcase on our hands."

"And you said yes. Why in _hell _did you say yes? Not your job to save crazies from the impending doom of the entire world, we're a little busy trying to do that already." I had another large bite of pancakes.

"Your compassion for your fellow humanity is touching, Cal. I agreed because he's proposing to pay us an absurd sum of money, most of it straight up whether he survives or not. I figure that's a good deal."

I sighed and leaned back in the chair. "Yeah, yeah, so I can get a new coffee table. Okay. Hit me with it."

"Our guy – which is I guess what we're going to call him, since he won't give out his name – says that he's being followed by cultists who are trying to kill him because of a research project he did five years ago studying the constructed languages of what is commonly referred to as 'the Cthulhu Mythos.' Well, he debated a little about the 'killing' bit. It might just be 'using to summon eldritch horrors from space beyond' which I gather about equals end of the world, if it were to work."

"So we're supposed to keep these cultists off his back. And how do we know what they look like, do they go around gibbering in forbidden languages with tentacles for feet, or are we just supposed to blow away anyone within fifty feet of this nut?"

That earned me a cuff from Niko, though lightly. "Don't be flippant, Cal. We're getting paid money here. At least keep that in mind, I know what that means to you."

"Booze, girls, a better ride for you. Yeah, I know." I put my feet up on the table and Nik promptly knocked them off.

"You can skip the first two of those, at least. We'll talk about the car later. Let's go meet our client."

"If we're lucky maybe he'll be dead by the time we get there."

"_Cal._"

I shrugged, checked for the gun in my jacket, and started for the door. "At least we can get this show on the road. Blast some cultist ass. All in a days work."

"Don't try to be suave, Cal." Niko was already ready, of course, right on my heels. "It doesn't work."

"I'm better at it than you. Not that that's saying much," I quipped, which got me another cuff but also a flicker of a smile. That was good enough for me.

Our guy turned out to be kind of a nondescript little fellow who looked just about like a young professor. Or else a hapless research student. He was hugging a couple books to his chest and looking around like he thought tentacled creatures from beyond were going to burst from the trees at any moment, his glasses slipped down his nose and his mop of blond hair reminded me powerfully of Donald Trump back when he might have had a full head of hair.

If he was really being hunted, I gave him about a week. Max.

"Are you the Leandros brothers?" He said in this little squeaky voice, like a mouse.

Maybe a week was generous.

"Yeah," I said, before Niko could go and be polite, "Are you the-"

He managed to cut me off before I got to 'nutcase' by a hard elbow in the ribs and inclined his head. "We are. I am Niko – you spoke to me – and this is my brother Cal." I watched his eyes flicker to me and grinned. It might not have been quite human. He definitely looked away fast. "I'm glad you were able to meet us. You implied that you might have more details for us – as well as payment."

"Call me – Mr. Dorset," he said in that ridiculous little voice, and looked around nervously. "May we speak somewhere else? This space is so – open." He eyed an old man puttering around on a walker nervously. "Their spies are everywhere, and always well hidden."

Definitely a nutcase. But we could humor him until he gave us the money, at least. Niko nodded. "Of course. Will that café do?" It was a cheap one, and seedy besides, but 'Dorset' nodded and we headed over.

I got a coffee, Nik got a green tea, and our client got nothing. He just sat down and started twitching. "So is there a reliable way to spot these cultist bastards?" I asked, thinking maybe if he could take he'd stop twitching. If he didn't stop I might have to strangle him.

"N-not from a distance, no." He glanced out at the sidewalk. "Closer – sometimes their eyes are unusually bloodshot, or their pupils too large."

"Like a drug addict," I said, dryly, "You sure they're not trying to get a hit off you?" Niko shot me a look and leaned closer.

"Have they attacked you directly before?"

"Yes – a couple months ago, when I was still in my apartment, they caught me and would have –" He shuddered, "But some people heard me and I managed to escape as they were fleeing, though I think they would have taken me with them."

"And if they did – uh – take you with them, they'd kill you?" He didn't smell wrong. Or that wrong, other than a vague stink I couldn't identify. But he sure sounded crazy. Or seriously drugged up. I couldn't smell everything, and besides, it smelled so much like piss around here maybe I wouldn't catch something unusual if it were there.

"Or worse," our guy said, and started twitching again. He made my muscles want to spasm, that way.

"Hold still," I snapped, and made up my mind that Niko could just deal. "Now see here-"

It all kind of happened at once, then. Mr. Dorset jumped to his feet with a screech, pointing out the big glass windows, and then went down like a stone. One of his books hit the floor and fell open as I was trying to get to see if he was still fucking alive, and I swear to god a tentacle came out of the spine as thick around as my leg, wrapped around my neck, and yanked me off my feet.

My head hit the table hard with a sort of nasty crack that I wasn't sure was the table, and that goddamn slimy thing was choking the breath out of me even as I groped for my gun-

Nik was still fast, though. His sword came out with a hiss and I saw the gleam of metal as it just went straight through that wriggling limb like butter, and it _hissed _and then it was gone, like it had never been, and I was gasping and retching on my hands and knees on the floor, face just a foot away from that fucking book.

It was smoking, smelled like acrid burning fuel. There was going to be a welt on my neck. And Dorset –

He was dead, all right, eyes bulging out of his head, and we were lucky the coffee shop was empty or nearly, because that green stuff he was leaking on the floor definitely wasn't any kind of blood.

We dumped him – it – whatever, in an alleyway and headed for home. I could still feel the suckers on my neck.

"Niko," I said, after a while, "Next time you want to take a job, how about making sure our client ain't from another dimension first?"

Niko didn't say anything. I guess he wasn't amused.


End file.
